There had been a time, only days earlier, when Hale would have been proud to play such a role. Now, after seeing how much Susan had been willing to sacrifice in order to remove Grace from office, he wasn’t so sure.
But Hale was a soldier—and gave the only reply he could. “Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”
The sun had just risen, and was a dimly seen presence off to the east, as the six VTOLs came in from the west. Though not especially fast under even the best conditions, these aircraft were especially slow because of the vehicle that dangled beneath each ship. And, as the wintry landscape seemed to creep past below, the officer in command of the mission was busy questioning his own logic.
Hale was in the lead VTOL, crouched between his old friend Purvis and the Party Girl’s copilot, the three of them eyeing the terrain ahead. It was flat farm country for the most part, much of which had been ravaged by the war, but some of the farmhouses, barns, and silos appeared to be intact under layers of gauzy snow.
Strike Force Zebra had been spotted by that time, Hale felt certain of that, so it was safe to assume that the stinks were organizing a response. And that was where the speed versus throw weight calculation came into play. By choosing to bring two M-12 tanks, plus four LU-P Lynx All-Purpose Vehicles along with his troops, Hale was betting that no matter how quickly they arrived the team might have to cope with a major counterattack. If so both he and the rest of the Sentinels would be glad to have some heavy weapons on their side.
Of course the flip side was that Blake fully expected Hale to bring the vehicles out, which would entail time spent rigging lift harnesses, and a slower exit from Chimera-held territory. It was important matériel, and Hale was extremely conscious of his responsibilities. Purvis spoke over the intercom, breaking into his thoughts.
“We’re five out. Prepare to deploy all vehicles—and get ready to hit the dirt. Welcome to Wisconsin, gentlemen.”
As Hale rose, Purvis turned his way. He flipped the intercom off so only Hale and the copilot could hear him. “Watch your six, Hale,” Purvis said, “so we can come in and save it again.”
Hale grinned, shot the other officer a one-finger salute, and went back into the cargo area.
In addition to carrying a vehicle, each VTOL was loaded with twelve men, for a total of seventy-two soldiers counting Hale himself. It was an unusually large command for a second lieutenant, especially since more than half the troops were Sentinels, each of whom was judged to be worth three Rangers due to their quickness and ability to recover from wounds.
But given Hale’s combat record, and his familiarity with the Henry Walker mission, Blake had been willing to put him in charge, with Kawecki acting as platoon sergeant. Now, as Hale took his seat, he knew all the men were watching him closely. “Remember,” he said as he looked around, “I hate paperwork… So don’t get killed.”
That produced some guffaws, and served to take the edge off as the Party Girl’s door gunners began to clear the landing zone of stinks. Then, as all forward motion stopped, the crew chief pulled a lever and Hale felt the ship rise suddenly as the tank dangling under the VTOL’s belly hit the ground.
Having released the extra load, Purvis put the Party Girl down about fifty feet away from the M-12, ordered the crew chief to deploy the ramp, and cut power. A lot of fuel had been consumed on the trip out, and he wanted to conserve as much of it as he could. The engines were still spooling down as Hale led his men out onto the flat area that surrounded the mine.
Two of the soldiers ran over to the tank, while the rest followed Hale toward the point where one of the enemy’s automatic mortars was dropping shell after shell into the crater below. Gouts of mixed mud and snow rose into the air as explosions marched across the pit and the defenseless prisoners ran every which way, searching for a place to hide.
“Shut that weapon down!” Hale ordered. “Then turn it around. If the stinks counterattack, we’ll use it against them.”
It took the better part of five minutes to kill the Hybrids who were guarding the emplacement and take possession of the mortar. Once that was done, Hale left a team of three men to redeploy the weapon while he turned his attention to what was happening elsewhere. And there were lots of things to worry about, something Blake had warned him about earlier.
“You’re used to leading small groups,” the older officer had cautioned. “This mission will be different. It’ll have a lot of moving parts—not the least of which will be Mr. Dentweiler. The trick is to avoid being pulled down into the tactical stuff, and keep your eye on the big picture.”
That prediction was already proving true. The rest of the strike force was on the ground by then, and a number of brisk firefights had begun as various squads began to tackle the objectives they had been given. But rather than try to micromanage those conflicts, Hale knew it was his responsibility to focus on the main objective, as two of the group’s All-Purpose Vehicles came roaring up to stop a few feet away.
The first Lynx was assigned to Hale, and the second was reserved for Dentweiler and Burl, both of whom wore Ranger uniforms minus insignia, and carried pistols.
Hale had argued against bringing the civilians along, but without success, or much sympathy from his commanding officer.
“You want tanks?” Blake had inquired rhetorically. “Well, you got ′em… Along with the guy who wrote you the blank check. Enjoy.”
“Come on!” Dentweiler shouted as he stood upright in the Lynx. “Let’s get down into that pit and find Walker!”
Burl, who was seated in the rear next to the machine gunner, looked worried. Hale wondered what the man was thinking. Here he was, returning to his own personal hell only days after escaping it.
Hale lifted a hand by way of an acknowledgment as he climbed in next to the driver. He was armed with a HE .44 Magnum and a Bellock Automatic. Both weapons had been chosen for close-in work if it came to that.
“Okay,” Hale said to the driver, “take us past those buildings and down into the pit.”
The engine roared, wheels spun, and slush flew sideways as the Lynx took off, closely followed by the second unit. Hale barely had time to look at the yawning crater off to the left and marvel at how large it was before a couple of Howlers came bounding out of cover and the .50 caliber machine gun began to chug.
Both Chimera were knocked off their feet, and the vehicle bumped over one of them, forcing Hale to hang on for dear life as the four-by-four skidded sideways and a dozen Hybrids poured out of the buildings ahead. They opened fire with Bullseyes, and as the gunner brought the .50 to bear, Hale triggered the Bellock. The combination proved deadly as half a dozen stinks went down.
The driver straightened the vehicle out, just in time for the second Lynx to hose the Chimera down as it followed along behind. Then the battle was over as both vehicles followed the circular road downward. They were about halfway to the bottom when the gunner shouted, “Drones at ten o’clock!” and began to fire.
Hale looked up to see that a swarm of the flying machines had been dispatched to intercept the incoming vehicles. So he fired the Bellock, and had the satisfaction of seeing one of the drones vanish with a loud bang. An instant later the gunner scored two kills of his own. “Yee-haw!” the Sentinel shouted as he smoked a third machine. “Eat lead, assholes!”
Then they were past the drones, leaving the second Lynx to fire on the surviving machines, as they made one last circle of the pit and came to a smooth stop next to the half-frozen lake. Within a matter of seconds a flood of raggedy prisoners surged out of their various hiding places, all yelling excitedly as some tried to jump aboard the vehicles.